"Halt! What is your business?" A man ahead of them asked, he was flanked by many others, all of whom were armed and armored, and stood at the foot of the great tower overhead, blocking the path forward.
"There's little work in the North, my squire and I are headed south for greener pastures." The Blackfish said, his head covered by a hood, Jon the same.
Ahead of them was the largest bridge he'd ever seen, it looked more like a castle then any bridge he'd ever seen before, it's majesty only matched by the width of the river and the speed of the surging waters underneath, with two of thick, broad towers that seemed to reach the heavens on either bank, he could spot dozens of people going about their business surrounding them.
The landscape around them was more desolate however, grey and muddy with none of the vistas he was used to back home and none of the greenery he had been promised.
They didn't need to cross it to arrive at the Bloody Gates, but Brynden had wished to take a scenic route through his home kingdom, having not seen it in many years, so he had been hoping for a quick crossing of the bridge.
"A hedge knight, ay?" The guard asked, "We're hiring swords, one dragon a month as a retainer fee, more for any bounties or jobs you do."
"A generous offer, my lord." Brynden replied. "But I'm afraid I must refuse it."
"Your loss." The man said, shrugging then opening his palm. "One dragon per head to cross."
"That's highway robbery." The blackfish objected, glaring down the man, but the man remained aloof and calm, which only served to grate the knight more.
"If you don't like it, take another bridge." The man turned his head both sides of the river as if looking for something. "But I don't see another one."
"Spare me the performance, mummer." The blackfish said, reaching for his purse and fishing for coins.
But then someone from the castle approached, a tall lanky man, who looked to be better dressed than most, but his clothes were old and parts of them torn, like they had been worn by a dozen men before him, his face was narrow and locked in a constant sneer.
"What's the meaning of this?" he asked, and something about his demeanor rubbed Jon the wrong way, it reminded him of the Septa in Winterfell, but then the man caught the Blackfish's eye and a slimy smile slid across his face. "You fools! This is none other than our good lord's brother, the great Blackfish!"
Brynden's demeanor, in contrast, grew miserable and exhausted, more than he'd ever seen him, with his head buried in his hands he groaned something under his breath, the men who had been standing in their way faded into the background, looking rather embarrassed.
"You weren't trying to cross without sampling our generosity, surely?" The man said. "You wouldn't insult us so?"
"I'm in a hurry Loathar." Brynden said in a tone as dry as gravel.
"And I insist, take their horses away and follow me." He said, promptly turning and walked away, while several armed guards approached them, the blackfish paused for a second, before huffing and jumping off, then waving at Jon to do the same.
Soon after, men came and took their horses, and they entered one of the two great towers on foot, following behind the oily man, who was going on and on about something or another, they ascended great staircases of cut stone and marble, passed many young men and women, both nobles and servants, who skirted out of their way.
It was like Winterfell, but built up rather than across, and with every floor they ascended, he could see halls and corridors where people lingered and sat, by the time they reached the dozenth staircase he was out of breath, the Blackfish then grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, whispering in his ear.
"Don't trust anything they tell you, don't agree to anything, but most importantly, don't rise to the old man's bait."
Jon wasn't sure what to make of those words, the castle looked regale, the people looked well fed, he knew they were in a hurry to arrive at the Gates, but what was so bad about this place that Brynden wished to avoid it so badly?
"Something the matter, Ser?" Loathar asked, looking back towards them, that same smile painted across his face.
"Just regaling my squire with the tales of the great Frey dynasty." Brynden said, his tone kept to the same dryness.
"Some other time," He said, continuing ahead for a few more floors before stopping and walking over to a pair of great oak doors that looked twice as tall as any average man, with guards posted out front. "Will you wait a minute for me to introduce you?"
"I simply cannot wait to see your sire again." The Blackfish said, pushing through the door to the Frey's panic, who quickly rushed behind, leaving Jon confused, but he followed the two in nonetheless.
Through the doors was a hall that was as big as the one in Winterfell, but much more crammed, with dozens of tables strewn around the hall, loaded with food and people, all of their eyes were glued to the blackfish, and by extension, him, servants and maids milled around them, carrying enormous plates to keep the mass of people fed.
But Brynden ignored them and their gazes, approaching the tables that towered above the rest on the dais, on it sat a man that made Maester Luwin look spry, his skin was leathery and sagging, it clung to his skull with little flesh or fat underneath to support it, he was so withered that Jon was amazed when he moved, to his right was a girl that looked young enough to be Jon's sister, looking rather bored and dead on the inside, even with their entrance. The Late Lord Walder Frey.
"Ser Tully, what an honor." The lord said, his voice even more unpleasant than his looks and his words felt hollow, almost mocking, Jon had never felt so… vulnerable, even when facing down a dozen wildlings, he stood his ground in either case, but he was more comfortable with a sword in his hand than with a stoic look on his face, the Frey who had escorted them in hurried up and whispered something in his ear.
"Lord Frey, looking younger than ever." Brynden said, keeping the same dry tone he had kept since they arrived at the bridge. "That a new wife?"
"The last one died, the plague got her, or, that might have been the one before her." The lord Frey said, then threw his arm around the young girl next to him and leaned in to lay a kiss on her cheek, making her face contort and her body shiver, before he released her and turned back to them. "My grandson tells me you wished to cross without even a simple greeting, is the Blackfish too high and mighty for his loyal vassals' paltry halls?"
"You're my brother's vassals, not mine." he said, not at all bothered by the man's words, he seemed familiar with this song and dance. "But you have my greetings none the less."
"Still not willing to marry one of my daughters? I'll let you have your pick," the ancient lord said, he turned towards the man who escorted them in. "Loathar, where's the pretty one? The one with her mother's bosom."
The man next to him in pointed to a figure in the crowd, she was comely, but she also looked like she would rather be anywhere but here, Brynden didn't even turn his gaze to her. How does he manage so many half-siblings and uncles and aunts? Jon had always thought his family was large, but it was nothing compared to the Frey lord's brood.
"Spare me the daughters, Frey, I must to be in the Vale for Lord Arryn's return."
"I would offer you a squire to accompany you, but it seems you've stumped me once again." The lord said, he turned his sneer to Jon, who wrinkled his nose in response, but the man turned back to the knight. "Are my sons and grandsons not worthy?"
"Your words, my lord." Brynden said, igniting whispers and gasps from around the hall. "But I would stop seeing everything as a personal slight, I've turned down dozens of offers before."
The man's face slipped into a glare and he turned his gaze to Jon, part of him wished he was anywhere else, his stoic expression might have slipped, but he stood his ground.
"Do you have a name, boy?" he asked.
"Jon, Jon Snow, my lord." He said, though the man's face sneered again. Does he not have any other facial expressions?
"A bastard." The lord said, almost spitting the word from his lips, but that only made Jon's blood boil, he'd sooner be a bastard of his father than this man's trueborn spawn. "The son of a rebel and a dornish whore."
"A rebellion you were too cowardly to join until it was won, if I do recall." Jon said as he heard more gasps of the crowd around them. "I would have thought loyalty was made of finer stuff, my lord."
"Does the bastard think himself a king?" the weasel asked, his face writhing, wrinkling, though not in anger, not truly, it was an almost deranged smile, it sent a shiver down his spine, but he still preferred the open hostility to the empty smiles, he does have other facial expressions. "To insult me in my own hall?"
"Enough Frey." The Blackfish interfered to save him, throwing his bag of coins up to the table. "There's your coppers, we're leaving."
He grabbed Jon's arm and dragged him out, the guards blocked the door, but his knight pushed through them, their hands moved to their weapons, time stood frozen in uncertainty, but the Blackfish only glared back at Frey.
The moment between them stretched and Jon tensed, ready to escape the castle with steel in hand if that's what it took, but a signal from the bag of filth on the dais relaxed the guards, and the two quickly walked out of the hall over to the stairs in silence.
Once back on the ground, they made their way across the courtyard to the stables, with many servants giving them side glances, but they mounted their steeds and galloped across the bridge, no one came to stop them on the other side, so they kept their pace until the castles were out of sight.
"Every time I see that man, I'm sure my brother made the mistake by not revoking his titles after the war." Brynden said, leaning forward on his horse and looking back. "His words are meaningless drivel, don't let them bother you."
"I know that much." Jon said, crossing his arms. "It's his demeanor that's grating, I wished to climb up there and punch him."
"I'd pay to see that." Brynden said, leaning back and laughing, but pushing his horse over the small hill ahead of them. "But all he wanted was to get a rise out of you, if I didn't pull us out of there, he might have ordered you betroth one of his bastard granddaughters to repay the insult."
"He wouldn't." Jon looked over and followed, only for the older man to nod.
"He's done it before." Brynden said. "Your ancestors were kings in the north, his were builders and merchants, he thinks he can raise his line to true nobility by infesting every bloodline with his seed."
Insanity. Jon thought, while true nobility still eluded him, having been born a bastard and all, he still knew it took more than marriage to attain, especially underhanded and undesirable marriages the Lord Frey peddled.
"I apologize for letting him get to me."
"I've seen men trice your age fall for his barbs, besides you spared us a meal with him." Brynden said, the thought of enduring that did sound horrific. "All is forgiven, lad, we're in the Riverlands proper now."
They rose over a small hill ahead and were greeted by rolling fields of greenery and crops, so flat that he could see rivers and forests for miles ahead of them, green leaves and clear water colored red from a setting sun, in the distant rivers he saw fishing boats with men as small as ants on their decks, sailing their ships to the countless shacks and ports scattered abundantly for miles ahead of them, it made for one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen.
"Welcome to my homeland Snow," The knight said, stopping his horse for moment to allow him to take in the view.
Over the next few days, they slowly trekked through the plains and forests of the riverlands, the weather was much warmer, the wildlife richer and the land, much, much more densely populated than the North, they crossed paths with countless people on their travels, from farmers ferrying wheat to their villages to minstrels who sung and played to wandering knights with countless stories to share, there was nary a night where they couldn't get a soft bed in some town or barn and a warm meal at a tavern or at some farmer's table.
Eventually they arrived at the source of the blue fork, one of the three major rivers that met at the trident and gave the riverlands its name, from it sprung a dozen offshoots and streams every few miles, the sight of it seemed to cheer up the blackfish as they rode.
It's like if I saw snow again after years spent in Dorne.
Some days later, they came upon Fairmarket, a larger town than he'd seen since White Harbor, it was a complete maze of log houses and smallfolk, working every profession from fishing and mining to smithing and crafting to whoring and begging. It sported more people than he was usually comfortable with, but he enjoyed their stay all the same, though it was rather brief, Brynden seemed intent on arriving at the Gates as soon as possible, well, until they drew close to Riverrun, and their pace seemed to slow to a crawl until they finally rode in view of the castle.
Still, they only stopped briefly, and Brynden just laid his eyes on Riverrun for a few minutes, it was quite a magnificent castle, with a thick stone curtain housing many tall towers inside, a seat worthy of any lord paramount.
Is this where Lady Stark spent her childhood? He tried to imagine her a young girl, but a slightly meaner Sansa was all he came up with. I don't imagine they would be fond of me here.
Having lived his life in a castle, he sometimes failed appreciate their splendor, especially when contrasted with the endless quilt of fields and tree tops the rest of the lands sprouted, they stood as manmade mountains rising from the ground, built with sweat and blood as much as stone and moarter, home to countless generations that would dwell safely within their halls.
Mayhaps I'll get my own castle someday. He thought, then looked back to the distant towers and peaks. Nothing as grand as this, but a small keep, with an even smaller household.
And mayhaps it is a hole in the ground that awaits me. The image of the wildlings open heart flashed in his mind again and he shuddered.
They did eventually ride away without even approaching it, and Brynden was rather cagey with any answers, so Jon left him be.
Many nights later, with Riverrun a long way behind them, there played out a familiar seen of Jon drilling in the shade of a forest overhead, he pushed forward with slashes and lunges, before blocking and reversing his step, it was of the Andal swordsmanship, a flurry completely new to him, and he found himself struggling with it.
Hence, he tripped over his feet and fell on his back, he looked up at the canopy of green above him, waiting for some remark from the blackfish that never came, when he sat up and looked, he saw the old man's eyes were closed and he could hear a soft snoring coming from his lips.
He's never going to hear the end of that. Jon thought amusingly, and moved to put his sword away and throw a blanket atop the knight, he thought of sleeping as well, but the sun had only set an hour or two ago, so he put another log on the fire, and retrieved a staked fish to chow on.
He sat staring into the fire, thinking of how far he'd come and how much longer they still had to go, he wonder briefly about what the Bloody Gates were like, a habit he'd developed over the course of their journey, he thought of his new mentor and all he had passed on to him in the brief time they'd spent together, and all he had yet to teach him. The fish catching technique Brynden taught me seems suspect however.
Then, he saw something moving in the corner of his eye, something unbelievably bright, and he jumped to his feet, his hand reaching for his steel.
"Hello?" He said, to what turned out to be an extremely old woman, ancient in every sense of the word, she had an odd glow to her, and she stood at half of Jon's height, her black, filthy hair long enough to brush the ground behind her, in her boney, leathered hands was a cane she leaned on, she approached their fire and took a seat opposite Jon.
"Are you lost?" he asked.
She struck his arm with her cane, and it was enough to make him jump. "This is my home." She said laughing, though it sounded different from any laugh he had heard before, truth be told, it frightened him more than the screeching of lord Frey or hostile glare of any wildling, there was something… mystical to this old woman, the glow of her skin was evidence enough, but somehow, he felt it further in his bones. "Do you know my Jenny's song?"
"Jenny?" he asked, remembering the song from the tavern in the North. "Like Jenny would dance with her ghosts."
"Yes!" She said, excited in a way only the old could be excited. "Sing it to me boy, and I'll tell you my dreams, you've my word."
"My voice is terrible." He objected, but she didn't care nor respond, only looking at him expectantly, he tried to recount as many words as he could to the old wraith.
"High in the halls…" He started, his voice raspy and low, he was fairly certain he was butchering almost all the lyrics near the end, but the old woman didn't seem to care, pushing her wizened head against her cane as she began to cry and mutter something to herself, continuing her display long after he finished, he looked at the unconscious form of the blackfish who was still snoring under his blanket and wandered if he should wake him.
But before he could, the woman recovered, and started to speak.
"I dreamt of a griffin devouring a knight, aye, I dreamt of a blue petal falling into a valley that was set alight, I dreamt of dragons being plucked from the sky and a blade of storms that could command the heavens above, then hidden at the peak of the world was a king's bounty, before all of it was swallowed by a kraken adorned with gold, it's eyes so dark and terrible that I awoke in terror."
"Uh, of course." Jon said, wondering how to drive this woman away without being rude, but she only crackled once more.
"I see a flame burning inside of you, child." She said, her eyes were locked with his, he felt them peering into his soul. "One that cannot be extinguished, it rages like an inferno, mercilessly purging the wicked ablaze and giving warmth to the innocent, it is comforting to see, stay the night."
Her eyes finally wondered off and he felt the shivers that had been running down his spine, he exhaled deeply, and when he looked, she had nodded off to sleep leaving him unsure of what to do.
She was… strange, but harmless in the end, and he couldn't imagine the blackfish being too angry with him for letting her sleep here, feeling his appetite leaving him and the day's activity catching up with him, he returned the staked fish, before lying down on his bedroll and trying to sleep, occasionally opening his eye to make sure the weird hag was still asleep.
The next time he opened his eyes, the sun was back out, and both the blackfish and the hag had disappeared, though he found the former by the river trying to catch a few fish.
"Finally awake?" Brynden asked. "I wished to let you rest, but it's nearly noon!"
"Where's that old woman?" Jon asked, still yawning.
"Old woman?" The knight asked. "What old woman?"
"Short, stout, with a cane as tall as her." Jon said, scratching his head. "She came after you slept and told me about her dreams."
"There was old woman here? What would she be doing in the middle of the woods after dark?" Brynden asked, before the puzzled look on his face turned to exasperation and he rolled his eyes. "You almost had me."
"What? No there was an old woman here, said something about knights and dragons or something." Jon said, scratching his head and trying to remember her words. "She asked me to sing for her."
"Now I know you're lying." Brynden said, shaking his head. "Who told you of the ghost of highheart?"
"That woman was a ghost!?" Jon asked, she certainly looked the part. "But she was here!"
"You must have had a bad dream." Brynden finally decided. "Tis the only explination."
"Mayhaps." Jon said, and shrugged. "I'll get the horses ready."
That was no dream at all. He thought, but said nothing further.